


Marriage Counselling

by moor



Series: Tumblr writing practice [11]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 11:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: Harry/Hermione. Luna is a marriage counsellor.





	Marriage Counselling

Hermione breathed heavily through her nose, her nostrils flaring as she glared at Luna. **  
**

—which was really saying something, because Hermione loved Luna like a sister. But at that exact moment, she was ready to suck bag a slug of a that failed polyjuice potion from her Hogwarts days just to grow a nice set of retractable claws she could use to rip out Luna’s fucking eyeballs.

“Really, I think it is the wrackspurts,” insisted Luna, her wide, corn-flower blue eyes huge pools of fucking nonsense that afternoon.

“Luna,” began Harry delicately, edging towards her from his seat as he eyed his fuming wife. “I don’t think this is the best approach, or perhaps the best time to bring up the wrackspurts again. Hermione and I were looking for some guidance to help us rekindle our relationship. You’ve been a marvelous help to us in the past, and you’re the only person we can speak to in confidence about this. There’s just been so much pressure lately, especially with the Prophet stalking Hermione and badgering her about when we’re going to start a family—”

“It isn’t like I’m not trying!” burst out Hermione, and to her disgust she felt warmth gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Oh bloody fucking Hell,” she spat, reaching into her bottomless ready-sack for her tissues.

“No one said you weren’t trying!” Harry swivelled around and gathered his distraught wife into his arms, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Shhh, shh-shh-shh, oh darling, Hermione, love, you’re stronger than they are. Don’t let them get to you like this,” he murmured, pulling her out of her chair and into his lap.

“We don’t need a baby to be happy, Hermione. We’re together, and YOU are my family,” said Harry.

“But why won’t it happen?” whispered Hermione, pulling back just enough to look at Harry with tear-stained cheeks.

“It will happen, all in good ti—”

  
Ignoring them, Luna lifted up a copy of the latest Daily Prophet. “Because your womb is full of twigs, according to this report,” she said conversationally.

“Uh, Luna,” said Harry, glancing at the red that had erupted on Hermione’s cheeks. “Now is not the best—”

“Oh! This one says you’re too full of yourself to make room for anyone else. Could that be it?”

“LUNA,” gasped Harry, horrified. He felt Hermione tensing like a jaguar in his arms, her arms and legs pulling in, preparing to pounde. Instinctively he grabbed hold of her, putting Luna’s life above his own.

“Aha! This one, from the Ron Weasley Fanclub, says your va-jay-jay is holding out for its One True King. Interesting, I didn’t know Ron had a fanclub,” chirped Luna as she tossed that copy of the Prophet into the bin.

“It only has one member,” said Harry. “The founder.”

“That rash-haired skiving sack of shit,” hissed Hermione, digging her nails into Harry’s loving arms. “I’ll skin-shave his pubes off him with a spoon!”

“That sounds inefficient,” remarked Luna, already flipping open another Prophet. “Oh! This one says you are such a prude you probably don’t know what to do with Harry’s p—”

“RUN LUNA! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!” Shouted Harry as Hermione pounced at their marriage counsellor, growling and hissing and clawing at the blond’s eyes.

“Don’t know what to do! Don’t know what to DO?” Hermione raged, still struggling to get to Luna’s lily white throat. “I spent near a year in a tent with two teenage boys—I know Harry’s fucking ‘plumbing’ better than he does!”

“Oh Jesus Chri—”

Harry’s face paled as Hermione pivoted on his lap and threw her legs over his, straddling him and shoving him back into his seat. With a wordless spell she transfigured the chair into a loveseat, and then, with a glance around her, she summoned her wand and pointed it at Luna.

“Get out.”

“Cheerio!”

The door slammed shut behind Luna hard enough to crack the frame; furious, Hermione warded it against intrusion and added privacy charms strong enough to deaden anyone too curious, all while loosening Harry’s tie.

“‘Mione, darling, this isn’t the—”

“The fuck it isn’t,” she said, and glancing at his jacket, she yanked it down his arms and threw it behind her. Next she tore open his shirt. “Why aren’t you done with my boots yet?”

Stunned, Harry just looked at his wife possessed.

Then, realizing he was about to get Really Hot Angry Sex, he sprang into action.

“Oooh, someone just woke up,” she said with a feral smile, pressing her hands against his chest and running her fingertips over his jutting nipples.

“The boots stay on,” he growled, grabbing her arse and squeezing. “But the skirt can go.”

“Giddy up,” said Hermione with a roll of her pelvis into his.

“Fuck yes,” he roared, and his lips crashed into hers with a burning kiss.

**Outside the door, Luna petted her plant cactus as she spoke to it. “Yep, just needed to get the wrackspurts out of their system. Hmmm. I hope the desk survives the onslaught.”**


End file.
